Author: [Cortisol] Without My Spellbook

[Cortisol]

It's hard to be as young as me and to have seen as much as I have. And I write that without much hesitation, although any time a person writes there is hesitation. Be that as it may...

Without My Spellbook
by Cortisol
__________________________________

I busted through the doors. The arrowhead lodged into my thigh had become warm and nauseating. My body's burns and slashes were pulsing with my heartbeat; scabs pushed blood through the cloth of the tattered robe I called clothes. Only upon reaching civilization had I realized how I must have looked, how it must have seemed to the pathetic commoners that had circled me. To have survived what it looked like I survived, I must have looked like a monster myself... or maybe just a victim... or maybe both, and not without reason.

I had slid my spellbook into my underwear.

"What in the hells!"

The innkeeper rushed from behind the bar. Many of the patrons backed away, some came to my side and I did not deny them.

"Get the healer's kit!"

"Who is he?"

"My oh my sir, you have been through it haven't you"

I smiled briefly. Yes I had.

I sat down cautiously, painfully, my robe peeling off of my wounds. I grunted as the adhesive formed by my pus and blood ripped against my open flesh.

I looked up and saw a swarm of people around me, mumbling gossips about the thing in front of them. I groaned out some words, if only to get out of them asking me to say something.

"I'm looking for a room and an apothecary."

I knew my accent troubled them, but I tried to give them an assurance.

"I am from Urh'yarosh, but you have no need to worry; I do not serve their cause."

My lie hadn't worked. They took a step backwards.

"How are we to believe you?"

"Why shouldn't I slit your fucking throat, you fucking Yark?!"

I closed my eyes. I opened my eyes. The crowd was louder. My life was slipping away now that I had sat down; funny how that can happen. I said it quietly.

"I escaped from Nuhan slavers."

A couple were letting me speak. Then more.

"You.."

"Yes, the slavers...

I escaped from them."

My voice was quieter. My eyes closed and opened. My hand went to my leg and I felt myself fading.

"How do we know..."

I folded back my robe to show my outer thigh: against my small pale limb a dancing branded tattoo of a wyvern lunged at the crowd before me.

And I passed out.

---

I awoke with a subtlety I did not know I had, as if my body was not quite ready to rejoin the world of the living and would only do so cautiously and on its metaphorical tiptoes.

Twenty seconds of blinking and my eyes were still unfocused. Yet

There is a beast in room. I lurched up, felt around, my spellbook.

Where the fuck

"Easy, easy, easy"

The hazy figure said it and moved towards me quickly, getting far larger.
                  My spellbook, where the FUCKING SHIT

"Back!"

I demanded of the monster to move backwards, as if such words have meaning without my FUCKING SPELLBOOK.

"Easy"

It was a woman's voice, young, uneasy, threatened. The frame loomed closer. My eyes only barely came to see brown backlit hair instead of an assassin's hood.

The voice kneeled beside me and grabbed my shoulder with an enormous, rough hand, guiding my entire frame down. The smell was something I thought I would never smell again.

"Easy"

I drifted back down into the bed, partly confused, partly worried, exposed and weak without my FUCKING

"I am looking for my book, it is bound in a black leather and has an etching in the binding of a

"Sword's hilt"

The voice rang it out too quickly. I must have been speaking slowly for it to have its interruption so timed, and it must have my book.

"Yes."

"Here it is."

It had been holding it and brought it up to me. I reached out and gripped it, but it did not release. I pulled a bit more and it still denied me. I was in no position to not be denied, so I looked over to the face of the thing. Its lips were smirked, its eyes batted, it was definitely a female.

"I read some of it."

I smiled through clenched teeth.

"No you didn't."

It moved a bit closer and turned its body towards the door, facing the book so light could show the orange ink. It had tilted to allow me to view what it was reading, but it was still in the way. I think it was its breasts.

"Towards the seething and great Provincial Force, we..."

Its accent was terrible and it read slowly, but I was convinced and at somewhat of a disadvantage being with neither my clothes nor my spellbook.

"Your Tongue is unpracticed."

She turned to me. It was her breasts.

"Well, I'm not a Yark and this village has done its best to make sure the ones that talk in these disgusting words don't do so long, so I guess it makes sense that I don't have the accent."

She stared me in the eyes. Her large face loomed high over mine. She straightened slightly to posture herself over me; she was threatening and I was sick of it.

"Whoever taught you it is surely dead."

With a slow lurch, her hand went from her side to my throat. The tendons shifted on her massive forearm just visible below the end of her sleeves. She began to stand up.

"Yes"

My breath shortened as she raised me off the bed. Her upper arm broke some stitching as it moved upward against the side of her chest.

"Yes she is"

I went higher until my head touched the ceiling. Hers was only a foot beneath mine. I grabbed at her hand, unable to reach between her thick fingers.

"And you might be too, if you do not cooperate and live out your usefulness. I know you can get us into Urh'yarosh because I know you are still in league with them, you fucking liar."

I reached down her arm, hopeful that something along the way would be an opening for me to free myself, but all I found was tensed thick flesh the size of my thigh, activated tendons and engorged veins brutally holding me aloft.

"So will  you help us enter? Or..."

Her strength.

"One tap for yes, two for no"

She squeezed harder on my neck. I hit her forearm once and then again.

She dropped me and I plopped on the bed gasping. Straw burst out of the seems.

The woman walked over to the other side of the room with my spellbook still in her hand. Her stride seemed constrained by the prerogative of not bursting through the bulging patched-up trousers painted on her legs. A lantern lay on a hook above a now dwarfed rocking chair.

She lifted it at its handle and turned back to me. I was gagging and rubbing along my soon to be bruised neck.

"A light?"

I looked over to her. I stared at her for a few seconds, denying her request. No fucking way was I going to... until she began to walk quickly back to the bed, her face twisted into a sneering frown. I quickly choked out a whisper and pointed to the wick.

The lantern sparked and illuminated a woman, a young woman not over 30. She had to have been over seven feet tall. Wavy brown hair draped around her wide neck. Her shoulders were maybe four feet across. Her chest thrust forward mightily, stretching every seam that tried to contain it. Her erect nipples broadened the forced-wide stitching of her tunic farther from underneath the undergarment that covered them. She probably got off on choking me, the freak.

She opened the book and began paging through it.

"You should be thanking me."

I was not yet able to form my air into aloud words, but I smirked with disgust for this creature.

"I saved you, you know."

I smirked more broadly.

"They were going to gut you, despite your story. And I saved your Yark ass."

I sat up, and looked to her. She needed me alive, so I was safe. Until she fucks up.

"Well you have my most gracious thanks."

The words slimed out of my mouth. I was sick of this bitch.

She closed the book and sauntered over to me. She was menacing and goddamn I couldn't stand it.

"You escaped the Nuhan?"

I was now sitting against the dirty wooden wall, my legs all but casually crossed to hide my genitals from this woman.

I nodded.

"Nobody does that."

I nodded, and smirked.

"You must be quite powerful then, perhaps a Yark archmage, although you would be young to have such magic..."

She was right.

"but only with this"

She held up my spellbook. She leaned down to me. Her young face clenched. Her smooth tanned skin. Her breasts grazing my leg. The Nuhan was a lonely place.

"So put that smirk away, because you are not strong, and I am, and I can put you in a lot of pain very quickly if you don't cooperate."

I heard a stitch or two snap on her clothing; perhaps she was expanding herself to appear more threatening, like a Neanderthal, like a fucking animal.

"From one prison to another, it would seem."

I smirked the words and hoarsely coughed out more.

"Now that this is all settled, may I have some privacy, or is that a luxury I have lost along with that of smirking?"

She looked down at me. Her widened eyes were filled with a impractical rage. She called herself off and stood up.

She went to a corner of the room and returned with rope, tying a tight knot around my ankles and another around my hands, which ended up clasped in front of my groin.

"You do not deserve privacy, Yark."

She walked towards the door, slouching slightly to bring her hand down to the knob. She shimmied out the door shoulder first, too wide to go otherwise.

Five men were standing outside leaning on a banister. They instantly stood at attention upon seeing my captor. Their heads reached her breasts at the highest; their mouths but a foot away from her protruding nipples. The Nuhan was a lonely place.

"Get him some clothes and trail rations by morning. We leave at sunrise."

They nodded and three of them rushed off.

She returned into the room and closed the door.

"Up."

She gestured with her arm. I hesitated.

"Up, I said."

I lurched my tangled body off the bed and fell onto the ground. My wounds stretched and I grimaced.

She walked over and pulled the bed toward the door. My spellbook remained in her right hand. She leveraged her hip against the wood of the frame, pressing the mattress against the room's only exit.

"You are on the floor tonight."

She walked over to a cabinet, withdrew a moth-eaten blanket and tossed it over me. I pulled it to cover my bandaged, naked body but it was too short. I laughed a small laugh at my seemingly unending misfortune, although this was better than the Nuhan.

The woman walked to the bed and slid herself carefully on top of it as it creaked with her weight. It, like my blanket, was too short, forcing her feet a foot over the edge. She turned off the lantern and the light from underneath the door was again the only light in the room.

She turned her body to face me. She wrapped both of her arms around my spellbook forcing it against her abdomen. Her breasts again obscured my vision of it.

She stared me down. I stared back for a few moments, curled up underneath the inadequate bedding I had been provided. My throat still pulsed with aching pain.

She closed her eyes.

"You must know that once we are inside of Urh'yarosh there is absolutely nothing stopping me from revealing this little hostage situation you have going here, and you will thereafter be annihilated."

She let out a sigh; her chest heaved; the bed creaked. She mouthed some words slowly; perhaps as some kind of argument against me but more likely something far simpler, a prayer perhaps.

"It would seem, then, unless you do indeed know the force you face and are thus committing a very well thought-out and highly inefficient suicide through your venture, that you have not seen true magic."

A pause.

"Perhaps it scares you. You're a large woman, you've probably fought many fights and won, and you are scared. It must be all the scarier."

A pause.

"And it should be, you are planning to walk into the very mouth of death. You are going to kill yourself and everyone you bring along."

"And I will see it happen."

A pause.

"So be it."

Her breathing was faster. I smirked and closed my eyes.

I heard her lurch up and rip her sheet along its edge. Heavy footsteps moved towards me and her massive figure leaned down and tied the cloth around my face and mouth. My muffled objections fell short as she returned to her bed.

---

Five minutes passed, and although I was tired, something about being nearly choked to death made sleeping difficult. I opened my eyes.

She was perhaps unconscious. Her face, not contorted unto intimidation as I had seen it for the past several minutes, was quite attractive in this darkness. Her plush lips lay slightly open.

I smiled when the thought crossed my mind about what it would be like to fuck a thing like that. Surely dangerous, but a good story.

I shifted my weight under the blanket. The image of her corded arms pumping me into her, her breasts overwhelming my head, this all took a few seconds to remove.

I did not have the time for such thoughts without my fucking spellbook.

[Cortisol]

They had removed the rope around my feet and had given me a pair of shoes. I shuffled along a single-file path with what looked to be about fifty soldiers armed and armored.

We had left in the early morning but for where I did not know. I was not even sure where I had started. My wounds from the day before had left me dazed and disoriented, but I did know one thing: I did know that all of these people would die before I let them leave my sight.

Although I was not sure exactly for how long I was in the Nuhan, it had to have been nearly half a year as I had managed to skip winter entirely. Small patches of snow were melting under the blinding sun. I could feel my pale skin burn under its intensity.

Ahead of me was the woman, still clutching my spellbook. She and a tracker lead the group, sometimes pausing to remove a collapsed tree from the path. I gathered her name to be Luciye when a younger soldier remarked at her strength in lifting a large trunk.

"By the gods, she's strong."

"Well if you were as big as Luciye I think you'd be too."

"But I'm not."

"Heh, nobody is."

"Glad she's on our side."

Same difference.

---

The trip was uneventful outside of the unshakable fatigue I was enduring.

By the noon sun, I was exhausted, my non-existent stamina expended. I had not walked fifty paces in my months in the Nuhan yet I was expected to travel for miles and miles on the day after my emancipation. These idiots clearly did not understand what I had been through. Of course, how could they?

"C'mon!"

The shaft of a halberd jarred into my upper back, stumbling me forward. I must have been dragging.

A few more paces and I collapsed. My breathing kicked up dirt on the ground. My arms being tied in front of me precluded any attempts to lift myself up. A few soldiers grappled me to my feet as I slumped down to my knees.

"So who gets the carry the wretch?"

The contingent had stopped when I fell. How nice of them.

My blurry, dazed eyes looked up to see the woman in front of me. Her massive chain shirt was bulging in every place.

With one hand still on my spellbook, she leaned down and threw me effortlessly on her left shoulder. My waist was less wide than half of her. My legs fell across her chest.

I had thought seven, but perhaps eight feet was a proper estimate of her height. It felt quite emasculating, being carried as such, but the past few months had all been pretty humiliating. And I would have my revenge; I would see to that.

But before then, my eyes began to doze. Through the haze of thought and dream that I had become familiar with in my exhaustion, it almost seemed as if she was swaying her hips just for my eyes to see, just for my cloudy dead eyes to see her mare-ass sauntering her me-sized legs forward. Maybe she liked me, and I fell out of consciousness.

---

I awoke when I was set down; or maybe I had been awake the whole time but just couldn't remember it.

I thought I remembered something, the woman, L-something, talking to me. Something.

My weak neck could barely hold my head up to see the colossus walk away after it released me. I remembered that I was held in bonds. A tingling weakness coarsed through me, no food, a headache, barely can see in this monstrous sunlight, or am I the monster when sunlight becomes a monster.

But it was a sunset, I knew and saw that much. The contingent was setting up a camp in a small ravine in the forest, a bluff in front of me, an enormous sleeping mat behind me, a half-dozen campfires flickering out the same hues out into the unstoppable sky.

My bondage.

I fell back out of the world.

I came back to it. The sky was now a deep, mellow purple sliding through the trees above. My face turned back down and I realized that I had been awoken by a spoon forced to my lips. The wood dripped with something salty, something I very very badly needed. I instinctively pursed my lips and slurped. Even my gag had been removed. My eyes moved to what I was doing.

She had brought me a small bowl filled with a meat and some grains, and it was the most pleasant sight I have laid eyes on in much time. Her tan face did not smile but did not contort in any menacing scowl either. This was promising.

It was as if I was back in the Towers, having some slave-girl feed me some delicacy or another, except this time I was the slave and the girl weighed four or five times as much.

Several hilts pushed out of her belt, each rusted and stained with blood.

"How thoughtful of you to feed your slave. Many do not have such foresight."

My first sentence all day. I looked to the soup and slurped some more.

"I know I would have forgotten."

Heh.

No response. More soup.

Fine.

A minute of being fed and the affair felt almost intimate. The only women I had seen in the past gods know how long were Nuhan wyvern-hybrids and impossibly disgusting.

In this moment I felt nurtured, and even though I was just being sustained for future uses I could not shake the sentiment: when a woman with arms as thick as your entire torso feeds you food - if only just to have you not die - when she carries you for seven hours - if only to browbeat you into treason - you feel protected, cared for. And she smelled amazing. My penis started to harden. I chuckled at the destiny of all of this.

I smirked, shook my head, crossed my legs and forced pressure into my crotch. She looked down, her expression unchanged. One more spoonful and the soup was done. The sky was an orange blue.

"Sleep."

Her hands pulled the gag from my neck back over my mouth. Her strained leather pants squeaked as she stood up and walked behind me towards what had to be her cot.

She carefully pulled her chainmail up from her neck, it shakily, sweatily slipping off of her. She walked farther and began untying the leather under-armor she wore. Her arms audibly broke some stitching as she reached behind her back for the knots, clumsily pulling at the laces. It eventually undid and she peeled it off revealing the white shirt she wore underneath. It was soaked with sweat, painted onto the pale skin of her rippling back. She began to turn around. Her breasts were just coming into view, her thumb long nipples fully erect through her wet shirt, the different muscles in her abdomen covered with supple feminine flesh nonetheless stuck inches out... as I realized I shouldn't be staring. I quickly turned back forward and began to casually lay on the hard rocky ground.

I resolved to not turn back around. The consequences could be dire.

After a mental cold shower, I fell asleep as the last fires were extinguished.

---

I awoke with a start, I thought I heard something. No, nothing.

A rustle.

Had to be something. Where were the sentries?

A rustle.

I turned around.

A squirrel ran into the clearing and began licking the bowl I had been fed from. Not as fearsome of a creature as previous rustles in the night had been.

Although shouldn't I be able to see the sentries' torches?

Shouldn't they be keeping an eye on me?

Bah.

I lurched towards the squirrel, manifesting the small bit of power I had. It scurried away and my gagged mouth smiled as best it could. I tracked it with my eyes as it moved behind me past the feet of

She was naked from the waist up. Is this how these people sleep, just anybody naked, women naked, anybody? Of course, maybe this wasn't just any woman. Perhaps she slept naked because she could fend away any body who had any funny ideas about her sleeping naked. Many women, as I had personally seen to be true, did not have such an ability.

Another rustle. This time from the other direction. I turned. A figure.

It moved amongst the cots impossibly quietly. Four more figures. Ten. These fucking idiots can't even sleep safe and they expect to walk into Urh'yarosh.

I shimmied towards the woman, quietly slithering along the dirt and rock, looking back. The assailants were crouching at the sleeping mats, maybe stealing...? No. Something much more sinister. More came. They moved with a shadowy stealth that seemed

I quaked slightly as I put pieces together.

We were by the Jo'tal. The fucking retards came by Jo'tal and without a magical weapon between them.

If I was to leave here alive, I needed my fucking spellbook.

I shimmied faster.

Luciye was lying on her side facing me. A ridiculous shelf of chest muscle thrust her breasts towards me a couple feet from her frame and I knew that the most expedited path to awaking her was ramming them. I was nervous about the social repercussions of such a thing but the occasion demanded extreme actions. My movement was no longer as subtle as I had wanted, but I had no choice.

A woman with inch thick veins bulging from her arms while sleeping, a woman with muscles on her stomach the size of actual bricks, this is who I was sexually harassing awake.

My head hit her left tit's nipple. Her breast was hard, engorged, twice the size of my head. The smell was incredible.

She lurched up quickly. My bonds kept me on the ground.

"What the fuck are you..."

My wide eyes looked up at her and then gestured behind me. Her eyes became as wide as mine.

"To arms!!"

She bellowed and stood up. My muffled words, a sentence about how their weapons could not hit the spirits of Jo'tal, went unheard.

The soldiers began to awake when various ethereal blows collapsed into their sternums and faces. From the misty blades and hammers blood flew into the sky, bones crushed into the ground. Dead. The remaining soldiers stood up and slashed through the spectral assailants, their weapons hitting air. Luciye's huge strokes with her massive sword were similarly ineffective, and I felt so sad and so pathetic. I was going to die here with these retards.

A misty mace chunked into Luciye's naked arm. She dodged a few blows while recovering from the pain and looked to the rest of the camp. Her men were being slaughtered; only a dozen remained and had no hope of evening the odds.

"Fall back!!"

She yelled the order and her soldiers began to run, but with an impossible speed the specters overtook them, eviscerating them with their undead strength. And then I was grabbed by the hair.

Luciye had me in her left hand and my FUCKING SPELLBOOK in her right. I scraped against the ground until she whipped me up onto her shoulder. The Jo'tal behind her were catching up.

As she ducked her head down and pushed herself faster and faster, her breathing accelerated, her pants ripped perhaps against debris, perhaps from the sheer power her legs were channeling. The monsters were still closing.

She pulled me down from her shoulder. Holding me against her body, her left breast pushing into directly into me, her legs pounding into mine with a locomotive force, she reached over with her right hand and ripped my gag off.

"Here!"

She slammed my spellbook into me and ripped my hands free from the ropes.

I looked at her. All of her friends dead, the misguidedness of her entire project immediately obvious, her strength being powerless against such foes, here she was. Fearful.

"Do something!!"

The command was desperate. Sweat poured down her body. Huge rips exposed her pumping thighs.

As I flipped my book to its end, I saw the ghostly shape of a Jo'tal slide beside her. She jumped, flying twenty feet into the air over a small cliff in front of us. The thirty foot drop pushed my stomach into my lungs; she pulled me closer into her body, my mouth forced into her bosom.

The landing was thunderous yet her right leg took it completely in stride. The Jo'tal bursted through the cliffside, phasing through the very rock, gliding with an unaltered speed straight for us.

A shadow lurched quickly beside her. Its grimacing and decayed face let out a predatorial grunt.

It sank a misty gladius deep into her leg.

She tripped and wrapped me close to her body. My head fell between her heaving breasts and the world went nearly silent. We tumbled along the ground. A thud. Her arms released me and I scampered out. Her back had hit a tree and the monsters had circled around us.

She stood and yelped in pain. Her eyes welled with rage and sadness.

I crawled behind her and hid behind her massive legs and the destroyed pants that had failed to contain them. They were so fucking big. What in the hells was this woman

As she yelled her final unction, prepared to fight to her last breath, perhaps to protect me until the very end, I ripped a page from my book.

I began to speak.

The words slurred out, my Tongue still perfect. Power.

The creatures screeched and moaned at my phrasing, all impeccable and beyond critique.

They charged and we disappeared.

[NinjaStar]

I like that there are stories that actually have a plot that have been springing up recently. I'm digging the fantasy setting too, but I love that the dialog is modern and vulgar as opposed to flowery and pseudo-medieval. It's kind of like The Witcher in that regard. It's a breath of fresh air from the typical story posted as of late. The Narrator reminds me of Edwin Odesseiron from Baldur's Gate (though hopefully less evil); arrogant, put powerful, nominally part of the team (as if he has a choice), but working toward his own ends.

I'll be keeping my eye on this. Hopefully there's more coming soon. Side note, are you going to pick Distracted back up? That's another gem of a story.

[JerusalemTulip]

I enjoyed reading this.  Haven't checked in here for a while, but it is refreshing to start seeing some stories with possibilities for both entertainment and titillation showing up. 

I like how you just threw us into the middle of the story, and will (presumably) fill in the background of important characters, and find some way to explain what a jo'tal is without disrupting the flow of your narration, and preserve some degree of suspense and mystery about things.

Nice work, and I hope you aren't finished.

[IBP]

Great story so far, but what else could be expected when Distracted was so good. Interesting to see you go another way initially with the protagonist, into one of pure power and strength, but then revealing what could be the beginnings of a kindness and gentleness that was the hallmark of Julia from your earlier story. The pace is good and although there isn't all-out muscle description the way in which it's laced into the larger story keeps it interesting. Cheers and continue!

[Cortisol]

Even for one such as I, traveling through the extra dimensions can be... pretty rough, especially in my current state of exhaustion and delirium. I knew I had to proceed quickly: It was only a matter of time before I would be unable to maintain the spell and seething chaos would close  in and end our escape with utter destruction. It was pretty high stakes.

The girl - if that is a way to describe her - was brought to the ground immediately by the primordial fluidity of unformed substance swirling around us. Of course, there was no 'ground' to which she was 'brought,' rather she simply failed to make one beneath her... but this is not the space for me to engage in an discussion of the quasi-physical nature of the intra-planes. It suffices to say that I brought her along with me.

Why, I may ask?

A good question. Surely she would try to subdue and repurpose me for her own ends, giving me my spellbook only when it would avoid an otherwise assured annihilation of us both.

But she did owe me quite a debt, as she would no doubt be dead and indeed among the dead were I not there. The idiots probably did not even know about the Jo'Tal, but that is not entirely their fault: They're retards.

And then the thought crossed my mind.

She had been bled by their weapons.

I felt somewhat stupid for forgetting such an important detail, but having remembered it I could not help but set aside my disciplined perfectionism that had brought me so very far, to such great heights, and instead of feeling shame at my absentmindedness I felt a small mischievous smile curl along my lips.

I reflected on her massive frame, or what contortion of it existed in this particular consciousness-ontology, and I demanded reality to straighten.

She appeared before me, in her full height, drooling from whatever her addled mind was perceiving here in entropy. Her hair fell messily around her head, her mouth open, like she had just... well.

Her eyes fluttered as if dreaming. Blood seeped out of puncture wounds from her brown, purple and now necrotizing upper arm where a mace, wielded with enough power to crush a man's ribcage, had collapsed into nearly unyielding muscle. But the Jo'Tal weaponry was not merely physical. It was clear that Undeath had already begun its campaign against her.

Veins, some two-fingers in diameter, screamed from the skin on her arm as they defiantly pushed blood and life against the bruised and infected muscle of her tricep, staving off the curse her body was encountering. Her life was yelling to be saved.

It was then that I felt that jarring twinge of self-consciousness, the body's reminder to the mind that it should realize that it is alive, and then I became dizzy. I squinted and furrowed my brow, as if that would help, and I blinked several times. I could not help but close my eyes, and after approaching a dangerous level of vertigo, I recalibrated my senses and reopened them, although I had trouble processing what it was in front of me.

Against the backdrop of the indescribable, I took in her breasts, her chest, the muscled shelf of flesh. My mouth was open. Her massive bosom pushed up and down and out. It sheened with sweat and veins pushing to its smooth surface. So heavy and full, suspended forward and upward, almost as if held up from underneath. Her cup and saucer of a nipple was just above my head. I took a step closer and her breath brought her massive breasts slowly higher. A breath in this chaos and I could feel my erection against the ragged trousers the retards had given me. A breath of my own.

I broke out of my reverie staring at her areola, ruminating that its size dwarfed me as a baby in front of a mother, and I purposefully failed to confront the strangeness of such a thought.

I gazed down her jutting abdominals, covered by plush womanly flesh. I lackadaisically lingered on them. I could feel myself getting aroused as I looked lower, towards her flaring hips into her patchwork leather pants, into her crotch, where all of her veins, where all of her body seemed to lead me.

But I had something else to examine.

I began to kneel. I could feel my consciousness falter from some change in blood pressure. I quickly stood up, reset myself and slowly descended next to her, nearly fainting a second time.

And then I stumbled and fainted. Again, it was not in any way actual ground but the word suffices. My eyesight tunneled. I blinked and sat leaning down to face the tented crotch of my pants.

In the coming seconds, I returned to the swirling unworld - luckily my subconscious had maintained control of it - and I saw before me the woman towering like some sort of monolith of order in this place and in this delirium.

Even on her eight foot frame, even as every part of her seemed out of proportion, a living testament of how much meat could be packed on a human being, her legs made the rest of her look nearly sensical. Her thighs each contained whole hogs of muscle, and perhaps were even larger than that as I had never actually seen a hog. While both had stretched the stitching of her patchwork trousers, her right leg had ripped it to near shreds. The cloth nonetheless seemed to be stuck on her only from the quasi-adhesive her blood and sweat had formed.

I crawled and kneeled closer to see beneath the crimson. Her thigh had swollen ridiculously around the wound. Massive veins throbbed in front of my eyes. I could feel my mouth open wider and I could feel a small disgust creep up my throat. Around the perimeter of the cut, I saw the same browning of her flesh as on her arm but denser and more complete.

The Jo'Tal magic had been doubly injected into her and it was only then that I truly processed how dire her situation was. My purpose extinguished any lust or exhaustion; I needed to move fast.

I stood up. Past her breasts I saw her eyes still fluttering, a cold sweat lacing her face. Her breathing had become more irregular and gasping. I began to bring her 'forward,' looking for an exit from this place. My magic would not work well here.

And the question still stands: Why did I bring her?

She was clearly human; a cursory glance revealed no particular abnormalities in her lineage. Yet, well, something was... amiss.

Her face gave her age at twenty if not younger, yet her size, her strength could not have been something developed in that small number of years. Perhaps it was gifted, by bloodline, by fate, by gods.

More to the point and more simply, whatever the reason, I just did not have it in me to leave her to not exist.

And she had saved me.

So, I would return the favor and I would save her...

for myself.

---

For several 'minutes' - the word suffices - she dragged against unreality, accompanying me by my effort, occasionally opening her eyes wide, crying gibberish in this complete and substantive Nothing for some sort of help against the toxin of Undeath consuming her soul.

With a finality, with a mortality, I remember audibly thinking a calm 'Ah' as I found a place to withdraw ourselves from the madness.

A simple breath and the spell ended and the world returned. She collapsed; I dashed away.

At a good forty feet, I found a rock to sit upon and examine my spellbook. I was to take no chances. I expected her consciousness to return in the next few minutes, but it could be sooner and she could be dangerous, and so I found some appropriate shrubbery to hide behind.

In short time, her body rustled in the clearing. I stared intently, ready for her to stand, but instead she simply continued to writhe.

I paused.

I opened my spellbook when I heard her shriek in pain.

I was flipping through it when I heard a gurgle. I looked over and saw her back disgustingly contorted as if some how a good stretch would defeat the most dire of necromancy.

More writhing and another shriek.

It could, of course, be a trap, some sort of ploy of hers to lure me out and browbeat me into submission.

Another shriek.

By this point, I was pretty certain. She was weak, she had to be. The Jo'Tal were now consuming her deepest parts, what was most essential, and she could have no recourse without rescue.

I stood up and pushed past the foliage. My gait was long and slow. Her writhing was now drawn-out and sickly. Her skin had become an almost grey.

I stopped a few feet from her. Her dirt-covered pants were now coated in necrotic fluids gushing from her wound. She was turned away from me on her side. The broadness, the bulges of her back quivered.

I stepped a foot closer and I could hear her labored breathing. With a quickness, with purpose she rolled her shoulder towards me. I quickly backstepped several paces.

She spasmed slightly and turned her head. A gasp spat out of her lips, saying at first

"Please"

My head descended and my mouth contorted as I saw a black liquid dribble out of the corner of her mouth

"Please, help me"

Her muted veins pushed to the surface of her skin. They had already begun to turn dark as night. Her eyes closed. She mouthed it again.

"Please"

Stretched out and poisoned before me was what should be a queen, a twenty-year-old warrior-giantess muscle-queen, maybe also some sort of fertility symbol or goddess or something. Maybe she produces milk for the young and the town 'elders' think that they will grow up to be powerful warriors. My mouth shrugged for my shoulders as I ended my daydream. Perhaps she's just the girl everybody wants to fuck, but here she was, nothing more than dying before me. I shifted my weight, wiped the crust I had developed along my lips, and looked down.

Her meaty arm flailed at the dirt in front of me, grasping at the soil before my feet.

"Please"

The whisper hit my ears. I shook my head as I felt myself getting aroused, then I rolled my eyes, hoisted my left hand and brought its precious contents up to my face.

The pages were getting uncomfortably moist in this forest. The font lost some of its precision, but my Tongue had not. The words echoed off the trees.

My eyes closed as I became relaxed in such a perfect and glorious statement. The tendrils of magic sprung out of my language, through the crystalline structure of reality and into her.

I could feel her blood coarsening, her being shrivelling, her organs slowing. She was so weak.

I traveled through her torso, up the tendons in her shoulder to the thickness of her arm, black and putrid, nearly falling apart. The Jo'Tal sensed my presence, my purpose, and ran. The muscle tensed with vigor and strength as I gripped it. It had carried me so far.

Tracing down her chest, tracing the smooth, bloodied, now healing skin of her bosom, I wrapped around her breasts, her nipples, her waist, her hips. I chased the toxin to its source and dove into the wound, into her thigh as it spasmed and expanded around me, as the flesh and meat of the most powerful of creatures regained its livelihood.

I paused. The Jo'Tal had scattered, but it was deep into the leg that the tip of the blade had penetrated, and it was here that the Jo'Tal were still lurking, seething with the desire for flesh. I proceeded deeper and deeper into more meat than is possible, until I saw the last bastion of the Jo'Tal before me. The domains of our magics stared each other down, knowing we each wanted the same thing. To share the same temple, a bargain must be struck.

With no words and with nothing at all, I slinked away and up her massive limb, up the skin between her legs, past her inner thighs' muscles flaring into each other, and past her young, tight vagina.

A sigh came over me, and my eyes opened. The spell had ended, and the Nuhan is a lonely place.

She gasped for air somewhat disgustingly. I backed away, ending about thirty feet away from her when she caught her breath.

She spotted me. Her head turned to me and she quickly leaned up on her arms. I pulled my spellbook out in front of me, shifting the pages until I reached one that might be particularly important were she to charge.

"You're.."

I remained silent.

"We're alive."

This was correct.

"Yes we are."

She began to stand up, grimacing as her wounded leg bent and flexed.

With a startle, she felt at herself, at her leg, her arm, her body, perhaps even her mind. I felt that I should be diplomatic.

"Before you come running at me, before you decide to suffocate me again"

A stern gaze quickly turned to face mine.

"Know that you have been gravely injured"

She wiped the caked black liquid from her chin, neck and shoulders.

"And that you nearly died."

Her thick neck cocked her head to a side.

"And"

"So you saved me? Is that what you are to say?"

She had successfully interrupted me. I was just a little too tired to do anything about it.

"You and your magic saved me? Right?"

I was poised and patient.

"Is that supposed to mean that I'm to trust you, Yark? Huh?"

The ground rumbled every other step as she slowly limped towards me.

"But, now, you see, everything is just about back to normal, except that you have that fucking book. Nothing's changed, you see. I'm alive, you're alive, you're going to get me into Urh'yarosh, and then I'm going to kill you. Nothing's changed."

My eyebrows raised.

"I am not asking you to trust me."

The words were slow. Her body still lurched towards me.

"I am asking you to think deeply about yourself and to realize what I have left still writhing and multiplying inside of you."

My face was blank as she approached.

"You can feel them."

"You will never not feel them."

She then closed her eyes and winced. A few seconds of agony later, she leered at me and perhaps at the situation she was most certainly in. The Jo'Tal had held up their side of the bargain, as I knew they would. I smiled.

She knew she could not justify killing me. She knew that her soul was in my capable hands. She knew that I was in complete control, and she knew that she wanted to show me her fury.

So she stood there, stifled, her skin turning red with anger, her eyes trying to cut through my body. I also stood there, proud and invulnerable, meeting her gaze.

My neck creaked downwards. I lackadaisically stared at her breasts, then up the slabs of muscle that held her breasts high and feet in front of her, then to her stalwart neck, and then back to her clenched, girlish face. She was probably super pissed.

It occurred to me then, once I had closed my mouth, that maybe in addition to being super pissed, she also might be scared and confused, as laughable as those emotions tend to be. I chuckled softly. A brief shake of my head.

Her features screamed to herself and others that she should never be scared, that she should never be afraid, that she can rip a man's limb off and then fuck it.

But now she was encountering no mere man. She had been invaded by a deeper and more dangerous enemy. It was ravaging her body.

This is fear, here in the forest, here in the middle of nowhere, here in the middle of herself.

She continued to look at me, but her face had changed, her posture more slumped. Another wince and she broke her gaze to close her eyes and take a step back.

She knew that I was her way out of complete annihilation, out of becoming nothing more than one of the same wraiths that consumed her entire band of 'soldiers.' And she probably knew that she was just too tired of fighting.

And so she collapsed onto the ground, splaying her bloodied, ridiculously swollen leg out in her descent. She looked down at the dirt away from me, and after a moment a tear neatly ran down her dusty cheek. And then she began to softly cry.

I realized full well that she had just lost many she loved to an ambush of apparitions, and I realized full well that her mind had been chewed up and spat out by primal chaos, and I realized full well that she knew that she was effectively enslaved to me, but I was expecting her to show a little more decorum.

I found a rock and sat on it. The forest insects sang their songs over her whimpers and I waited for her.

The Nuhan was a lonely place.

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[jstans]

You're a very good writer.

[Lupus753]

Is the story over, or are you going to write more?

[phil123]

I hope for more.

Very well written.